A Shattered Heart
by Kat Lee formerly Pirate Turner
Summary: Pocahontas reflects on her tragic lovelife. Written from Pocahontas' POV.


Title: "A Shattered Heart"  
Author: Pirate Turner  
Rating: PG for mature themes  
Spoilers: Both Pocahontas movies  
Summary: Pocahontas reflects on her tragic love life. Written from Pocahontas' POV.  
Disclaimer: Pocahontas, John Smith, John Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, Flit, and Grandmother Willow are all © & TM Disney and are used without permission. Roy Disney is © & TM himself, if any one. Everything else is © & TM Pirate Turner. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this story, and it is for entertainment purposes only.  
Author's Note: Although Pocahontas is with Rolfe in this story, he does not make an appearance, and it is most definitely not a Rolfe/Pocahontas fic. Read it to understand for to say anything more would be to give too much away.

I don't understand it. I've tried to ever since it happened, but still I just don't understand how they could have done this to me. They promised, but they lied. I would never have came back if they had told me the truth, and they knew that so they lied.

They told me I could finally be happy with him, that I could finally correct the most awful and wrong decision I have ever made, so I agreed and returned to this world. I would have done whatever they had asked of me as long as I had been allowed to remain with him, but I never dreamed that I would return to life only to become Roy Disney's slave. They returned my flesh, but they have destroyed my heart, my soul, and my very reason for living.

The tears well in my eyes just as they always do when I dare to think about the horrible way that my existence has turned out. My people were nearly wiped out by the white man, and although I love a white man and know that my soul mate is indeed a gorgeous white man with blue eyes and blonde hair, it is still the white man that will prove to be the end of me. I was able to make John understand and accept that the white man does not have power over all other living creatures and is only another one of Mother Earth's children, but although I have tried both in the English courts during my first life and at Disney in present day, I have been unable to make any other white man understand. They claim Rolfe does, but I have the bruises to prove otherwise.

As I walk the familiar path, ignoring both the other Disney citizens and our fans, my mind turns back to the first time that I saw the love of my life. I didn't know what he was. He looked like me, but his colors and clothes were completely different. Although I have since seen far too many guns, I had never seen a musket before that moment. I was afraid of him then, but another, much stronger emotion pulled at my heart. I was in awe when I first saw John Smith, and I have been in awe of his magnificence every single time I have seen him since.

No matter what they do to me, they can not erase my memories. I was even able to remember our time together when I was dead. I recall the way he used to look at me -- as if I was the only being on the entire Earth --, and I remember the songs and adventures we shared. I remember how it felt to run, hand in hand, through the forest, and the astonished and amazed looks on his handsome face when I showed him the wonders of my old world. My hands ache to touch him again; my mouth whimpers for his. The only place I have ever felt completely safe was in his loving embrace, and I have not been safe for even one second since they ripped me from his arms.

For every good memory of our time together that I cherish, there is a bad memory that I wish that I could forget. I remember the words I was forced to tell him in what was supposed to be my second movie. That was never my movie; it was merely a Hell that I was forced to go through and have been forced to live in ever since. His voice yelling my name during each time we have been ripped apart comes to me again on the wind, swirling about my head and pounding in my mind until I want to scream. I remember how desperately I wanted to -- and still want to -- die when Roy Disney forbid me from being with John. Walt never would have done what his brother has, but there has been no one to stop him since the founder's death.

They say that true love conquers all. Disney even shows that in almost all of their other movies. Yet if that is true, why is it that John and I can not be together? Why is it that I am condemned to the Hell that is John Rolfe? Do they know how Rolfe truly is? Would they care that every moment we are alone together, Rolfe is a completely different man than the face he shows to the rest of the world?

John Rolfe is even more terrible this time than he was in our first life together. At least, back then, he loved me, but now he knows that I truly love John Smith. Because of that love, he beats me. Perhaps he thinks he can beat me into loving me, but nothing could be further from the truth. Each time Rolfe touches me -- whether it is his spit on my face, his hand striking my body, or simply his lips forcing mine --, I hate him even more just as each time I see Smith and know that I can not be with him no matter how much we love each other or what we do, I die a little more.

I stop and look up, sensing his eyes on me. From across the crowded street, our eyes meet and lock. Even from this distance, I can clearly see both the pain and the eternal love in his enchanting eyes. Every single inch of me cries out to go to him, but I pause to carefully scan the street. I spot him in another dark corner and easily see the glint of the steel in his hands. I would not care if he shot me, but as my eyes follow the direction his gun is pointed, I see that is instead pointed at Meeko.

Solemnly, my eyes meet John's again. Though I dare not open my mouth, I think hard, trying desperately to let him know through my eyes that I am so terribly sorry and why I can not go to him. Knowing that I can not look at him for long as even that is against Roy's accursed rules, I force myself to tear my gaze away from him. I again look to the shadows where my guard is before turning my gaze to my little brothers.

Both Meeko and Percy look up at me. Meeko has such compassion in his eyes that it breaks my heart a little more, and Percy whines softly. I scoop before them, lovingly stroking both their heads. Flit flies down, and I reach up to gently rub his tiny tummy. As I do so, I dare another quick glance at where John had stood only to find that he had vanished. I pray that he understood why I could not go to him, but I have no way of ever knowing whether he did or not.

Suddenly, it is all too much for me to be able to bare. Gathering Meeko and Percy in my arms, I stand and run. I bury my face in Meeko's soft fur and finally allow the tears to begin even as he chatters sympathetically and Percy whines softly. I do not need to look as I run; I know the path I am taking just as surely as I know that Flit is flying beside me. Meeko's sympathetic chatters transform into a soft, reassuring purr, and Percy begins to lick me. I know they are both only trying to cheer me up, but that is something that is no longer possible and has not been possible for several winters now.

Reaching Grandmother Willow, I open my arms and allow them to jump to the ground. Even as they do so, I collapse on the ground before her, crying endlessly and sobbing loudly. Her vines creep gently around me, but not even she can still give me comfort. She speaks some hushed words to me, lovingly calling me her child which I am, but I do not hear her. All I can hear is the shattering of my heart.

They say that I died from a disease the first time, but they were wrong. They think I am happy with Rolfe, but they are wrong. They think I loved Rolfe before and love him again now, but they were and are wrong. The only man I can ever love is John Smith. I am dying again though it is just as slow as it was in my first love. I am not dying from a disease or anything that the white man's science can have a cure for. Not even my own people have a cure for what I am dying from. I am dying, slowly but surely, from a broken heart.

**The End**


End file.
